Fallen Love
by Pey119
Summary: All I wanted to do was start a new life, to escape my past. I never thought I would meet Nico, never thought I would meet an angel. But even angels need help sometimes. (Au, solangelo, angel!Nico, complete)
1. Prologue

_**AN: Everything throughout the story that is between ~this mark~ is an alternated version of story prompts and stuff on Tumblr. Whatever is between ~this mark~ I don't own. Nor do I own Nico or Will or any of Riordan's characters.**_

* * *

 **Prologue**

~I wasn't always a house on fire, but I've always been full of light.~

I've spent my time in churches. I've spent my time in sunny rooms and singing choirs. I've spent my time in libraries full of dusty books and the scent of old paper.

I've spent my time with friends of all races, friends of all backgrounds. I've spent my time with people that were good for me. I've spent my time with people that, in the end, didn't love me.

I've never spent time with someone of his nature before. And it wasn't just the wings. It was the destruction in his eyes of his soul, of his happiness. It was the destruction he did to me. Just like water flows. High concentration to low. He took everything I had.

~I can tell you about the sunlight. How it gets inside you like fish hooks or an old kind of hunger.

About my mother's addiction to drugstore blush and smeared lipstick,

My father's penchant for the scent of pipe tobacco,

How my house was a vintage animal with claws.

About the creek, his muddy feet,

That time I kissed a boy

Even though everyone said I shouldn't

Because I'm a boy too.

About the lavender sprigs I keep in a water glass on my nightstand,

How he laughed,

How I loved him for the coldness of it.~


	2. Chapter 1

~He appeared again tonight. Sad eyes, fierce, looking hurt.~ As he moved between the pews, a cloud of darkness seemed to follow him. I could only watch and hope that he finds the peace that he's looking for.

~His bruises were the color of the wine, the sacred blood that it claimed to be as it passed through the sinner's lips. He grabbed my arm and walked away without a word. I keep remembering the dirt under his nails.

Did he get in a fight? I saw him cry.~

His hand was cold against my arm despite the warmth of the church. His fingers created small bruises. Blood stained his hands and his forearms.

He led me to a room behind the cold alter, it empty besides the articles of clothing that hung around. Gowns. How'd he know what was here?

Silence. I spent the time looking into his eyes, looking in dark holes that were empty of all light. In the end, they'd be golden like the sun. Mine would be empty of light.

"Who are you?" his voice was paper thin, was low and tired and desperate. His first question. His search for answers.

I shouldn't have responded. I shouldn't have told a stranger my name. But I saw the look in his eyes, I saw the craving for peace. "Will Solace. I volunteer here."

He didn't speak as he looked away, his eyes focusing on the floor beneath us. Brown carpet. His feet were bare, mud and glass spread over the white skin. His aura was as dangerous as a tornado and every bit as wild.

"Who are you?" I finally asked. This boy was an enigma. He was something I had never seen before. So much sadness... It was leaking into my own emotions, evaporating my smile. "I've seen you poke around here before. Who are you?"

His voice changed into a humble mocking of something I didn't understand at the time. "Nico."

"Nico... Last name?"

A thin smile spread over chapped lips. "You can pretend it's Di Angelo."

Pretend. "Okay, Nico... Why are you here? You're the one that pulled me in here to talk."

"I don't want to talk to a priest. They claim to do God's work but they butcher his message. I can't get to the Pope. I can't get to anyone that would understand me." Nico's eyes flittered back to mine. "But you volunteer here. That means you must believe in all this stuff somewhat."

"Yes...I do." He was wearing a white shirt stained with dirt and blood with pants of the same color. "What do you need?"

"Help." his lips barely moved when he spoke. "I need help. Please."

"With what? Are you hurt?" I quickly looked him over. He was covered in blood but he didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere I could see. "Where's the blood coming from?"

Nico's fingers twitched. "That's not how I need help. I need help getting home." Broken eyes, tears filling his vision. "I don't know how I got here. I just want to go home."

"Okay, I can do that." I hadn't seen any wings. Hadn't realized exactly _what_ he was yet. Who would? "Where do you live?"

"Heaven."


	3. Chapter 2

Wings. As white as snow, as sharp as a sword. Sharp enough to destroy the innocence usually associated with their holders. Deadly enough to slice a neck, to slice an artery. Large enough to be visible at all times.

Yet I only noticed them when he said that word, when he claimed to live in a place that I wasn't completely sure existed. I saw the way they rustled when he got nervous, saw the way they shed feathers around us. The brown carpet was covered in them.

No halo above messy black hair. No other signs of divinity. If the blood was his, it was still red. Human blood. No golden.

"You don't believe me," he stated, head tilted to the side like it would help him think, help him understand. "I don't blame you."

"Turn around." I put a hand on his shoulder and tried to turn him myself. "Let me see these wings."

"You think they're fake." he turned around, revealing a shirt soaked in blood and ripped open.

"Nico..." I could tell the wings were real. Blood, cascading down his back from where they broke his skin. His shirt ripped open where they emerged. No straps, no velcro. Nothing else to hold them on but the fact that they were part of him, part of his body.

He wasn't human. It was a fact now, a fact that melted down my spine. He wasn't human.

"What are you?" I finally asked. "The wings are real but you don't have a halo."

"You're really stereotypical." Nico turned to face me, his wings brushing against my face as they moved. More feathers came down around us but never grew back. The skin of the wings was visible.

"So, angels don't have halos?" I picked up a feather and held it out to him. "You're shedding everywhere. The priest is going to think I pulled a prank on him."

"We do. They're just annoying and I was trying to fit in on the streets as much as I could." Nico gestured to his legs. "It's in the shape of an ankle bracelet right now."

"...right..." I knelt next to him and sure enough, a golden circlet clung to his ankle and gave off an odd light. "Why is it so tight?"

"Why are you asking me all these questions?" Nico stepped back. "I don't need more questions. I need help."

"I can't help if I don't understand what's going on." I looked down at my phone, felt the realization of how late it was punch me in the gut. "I was supposed to be out of here an hour ago. Come on, we've got to go."

His eyes were anything but angelic, anything but holy. A demon's eyes. When you see too much, it seems you soak it all up. "Go where?"

"My apartment." I grabbed as many feathers as I could and stuffed them in my pockets. I could never say what made me do it, maybe just the fear of the priest finding them, but I've never regretted anything more.

"You don't live with your parents?" Nico asked. "You're what, seventeen?"

"I actually moved out last week." His hand was rough from dried blood. I grabbed it without a second thought. "Come on, it's dark out. We'll stick to alleys. And if anyone sees you I doubt they'll say anything. This is New York City."

"Lead me." his bare feet shuffled closer to mine. As we walked, they never were any farther than an inch away. Whether it was the fear of unholy streets or the fact that he was in his own form of Hell, he seemed to think that I was the solution to it all.

And I _was_ his solution.

But he was my Hell.

 _Hell_

 _/_ hel _/_

 _noun_

 _A state or place of great suffering; an unbearable experience._

Unbearable in the end. A false sense of security in the middle. Confusion in the beginning.

Should I have brought an angel home? Probably not.

Should I have let him into my heart? No.

But who would have thought that an angel was capable of breaking your heart?


	4. Chapter 3

~Angels.

Yes, they are beautiful, but they burn, and if you get too close they will singe your soul. Yes, when they let you get close enough, are lovely to the touch, but so are poisonous flowers.

Yes, they are curious, but they are also soldiers, and they would just as soon destroy something as they would learn about it. And yes, yes, yes, I think I'm in love with him. But remember, you can't look at the sun without blinding yourself, and you can't kiss a star without burning your lips.~

There's a reason they're in the background, invisible. There's a reason humans think they don't exist. It's to save both of them from a love that could never be.

I got to feel that love. I got to see what it felt like to be in the middle of a tornado, at the edge of the eye of the storm. I got to see how powerful love can be and how dangerous it could get.

And in the end, I got to damn well live. Even if it wasn't that great.

And the position I'm in now? It's a damn good way to die.

* * *

~I'm not a whole person and I don't think I ever will be. Parts of me died in the house I grew up in and I visit them in dreams.~ The only way to try and escape was to move out as soon as I got a job, move as far away as I could. The apartment was small and the work was hard, but it kept me distracted from the memories until I couldn't do anything more to stop my mind from dreaming.

As I led Nico to the apartment that served as nothing more than a bed and shower, his wings brushed against the cold alley walls. A trail of feathers followed, marking where we had been and where we had yet to be. When we got to the apartment, I realized that he wasn't shedding nearly as much as he had been.

We escaped the streetlights by ten o'clock. As we walked up the carpeted staircases, Nico seemed to disappear into the dim lighting. He didn't glow, didn't stand out like angels should have. Instead, he seemed to melt into the darkness like he was trying to become part of it. The shadows themselves seemed to have made a friend.

"In here." I opened my door in hopes his wings would fit. "Come on in. I can make some coffee."

"I've never had any." Nico's voice came from behind me as I walked to the small kitchen. "But I'll try some if you want."

"Close the door and you can." I got the coffee pot started quickly. Caffeine, a silent killer but the only thing that kept some people going. It was what kept that city going. A blue container on a dirty counter, tap water that splattered everywhere it could. Coldness. Exhaustion.

The door clicked shut in the silence of the apartment before footsteps moved closer to me. Bare feet slapping against the tile of the kitchen, whimpers of a pain that I had never felt before.

"Are you okay?" I turned around to face him, felt a more serious situation come to light. Those white wings, once beautiful, once so deadly, once the wings of an angel as well as the wings of a soldier. Now they were nothing more than a gruesome joke.

The left wing was nothing more than a skeleton of what it once was. No skin, no meat, no feathers. Just black rods that seemed to have worked as the bones of the wing, and even they were shriveling up.

"Nico..." his eyes were darker than the streets of the city and even more dangerous. "What happened? Is it a side effect from not being...where you're supposed to be?"

He nodded once, cracked his back and cracked his fingers. "The right one will go, too."

"Damn." What else could I say? What other word to describe such a screwed up situation? A dying angel in my kitchen, a pocket full of feathers and a pile of bills to be paid. ~Rent will be tough to make this month, work will be overtime, my feet are still sore from yesterday.~ Now I'll be feeding two.

"I don't say that word." Nico pulled himself onto the counter and let his bare feet dangle. Glass splinters, blood on cracked skin. I still wondered whose blood was staining his hands in such a way. "But it accurately describes what I'm feeling."

"Okay, we need to talk. Big time." I poured myself a cup before it could even finish brewing. No sugar, no milk or cream. Those were pleasantries that I could only afford if they were free. "You need to tell me how you ended up here, how long you've been here. If this is normal for angels."

"I don't know how to answer most of that." he leaned back against the wall, crossed his arms and closed his eyes. "I've probably been here for about a week. That's all I know."

"What do you mean?"

"I woke up in an alley." Nico's wings rustled as he got comfortable. "Didn't know how I got there. Didn't know where to go. Finally found you."

"What's the last thing you remember before that?" I asked. "You know you're an angel. Do you have any memories at all?"

"Hmm..." his breathing slowed down along with his thoughts. "Coffee smells good..."

"Damn." What could have been a prosperous conversation disappeared along with Nico's consciousness. I hadn't seen anyone else fall asleep so easily, but it seemed angels played by different rules. Dying angels, at least.

Dying. It stung to think that that boy could die.

I hardly knew him. Had just met him hours before.

But something in my heart couldn't stand to leave his side.

He was lighter than I expected, lighter than what was probably healthy. As I laid the sack of bones on the couch, he didn't stir nor come close to waking up. A blanket laid over him, a pillow beneath his head, a quick pick up of feathers before another cup of coffee.

It was only after I had finished the pot when I realized that something wasn't right. I could feel it in my bones, could sense that something wasn't normal. Instincts. Maybe unexplained, maybe from evolution. Whatever they were, they got me looking out my window that night.

To find what I could only describe as a shadow figure, the silhouette of a man with wings. All black, no face. No characteristics. Nothing. He was bent beside the trail of feathers Nico had left, one feather in his hand as if he knew exactly where it had come from.

Fear. Raw fear.

Protectiveness. Of a boy I had just met.

Courage. From the feelings I had for this boy, I guess. The old saying must have been true. To be loved gives you strength, but to love gives you courage.

I grabbed a hammer, locked Nico in the apartment, went down to see exactly what this thing was.


	5. Chapter 4

~I never had a chance to be soft. I was always bloody knuckles and shards of glass. I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me.~ Ever since that one day, I couldn't accept any more pain.

Dim lights, the smell of the gas stove. A blender slowly coming to a halt. Blood splattered, a mangled hand, the feeling that it was my fault.

Fear of what happened, fear of what I had just seen. Fear of what _my_ punishment would be.

The stove kept burning on. The smoke detector went off.

The smell of burning flesh filled the house for days.

A hammer in my hands, determination in my heart. Whoever was looking at those feathers had a problem with that angel, so they had a problem with me. And I wasn't going to let that happen for too long.

They used to call me Sunshine in school. I was a happy kid. Blond, smiley. Giggly. I was the personification of happiness. But it became fake soon enough.

The shadow man was thicker up close, shadows condensed together. Wings as sharp as Nico's had been, blacker than the night. He looked up when I came closer, stood up with a head tilt just as Nico had done. "You see me?"

"Am I not supposed to?" The hammer felt different but I didn't dare look down at such an old object. "Who are you?"

He stood up, tall and lean. No face yet red eyes. "You know where it is."

"Excuse me?"

"The angel. You have its feathers in your pocket." His eyes were anything but friendly, even compared to Nico's. A sword darker than himself appeared in his hands, was pointed at me with its tip against my nose. "Take me to it."

"To...it?" I never would have believed where I was, what I was doing, but some old memories started to surface. Waking up with bruises, waking up with cuts. Waking up with this same hammer by my side. "Why would I do that? If you're calling him an it than I don't think you're going to be friendly with him."

His red eyes looked me over, hesitated where I held the hammer at my side. "No wonder you can see..." He stepped back but kept his sword up. "You're a hunter... You don't look like one. But that knife is unmistakable."

"Knife?" Why did I move closer to him? Instinct. I didn't even think about it at the time. Honestly, I wasn't thinking at all. "Just get away from us. You have no business with him. You're not an angel. You're not anything good."

Lightning travels 186,282 miles per second. Nothing travels as fast as light, but it's close. Maybe the closest thing there is. But when he attacked, I could swear he attacked just as fast.

I don't remember fighting. I don't remember raising what I thought was a hammer. I don't remember seeing that it was a dagger as gold as Nico's halo bracelet.

I don't remember killing that dark entity. But I do remember looking down at the black body as it evaporated, felt the exhaustion weighing down on me. The same exhaustion I always woke up to.

The knife was now a hammer again, in my hand as if nothing happened. My nails bled, my palm had peeling skin. In silence with nothing more than the sounds of the city around me, I picked up every feather I could find. When I got back to my apartment, I burned them in the fireplace.

Nico still laid on the couch as if nothing had happened, as if my heart hadn't been ready to beat out of my chest, as if too many things weren't coming together. The scratches and bruises from whatever I had fought resembled the ones I woke up with, the hammer at my side was always what I woke up by.

At that was something that happened before I met Nico.

As I looked down at that demonic face, I saw how even the smallest of his angelic features seemed to be vanishing. Dark circles now outlined his eyes, his cheeks were sunken, his pale skin was turning a sickly green.

~Maybe demons are angels who suck up too much darkness. Maybe they don't know the difference between good and bad anymore, but they do what they think is good.~ Maybe that was what was happening to my angel.

But my angel... He was Nico. Not just an angel. He was the boy with lips that looked soft beside the chapped lips. He was the boy with messy hair that looked so easy to run my hands through. He was the boy that needed my help, and I was the boy that needed him.


	6. Chapter 5

Most people look at mornings as the sun streaming through open windows, as the smell of breakfast cooking, as the sounds of kids getting ready for school. They see the dust floating in the sun's rays, they see large plates of breakfast sat out with the dog sitting under the table, ready to eat anything that falls.

But that vision is fake, isn't even real in fiction. It's peace that no family can find unless that have all the money, unless that have all the love. And that's almost impossible in the world now.

My morning was the smell of coffee, the sound of an alarm blaring through the small apartment. Sleepy eyes that hadn't closed once, sore hands that grasped the hammer all night long. A fire burning with new feathers that had fallen from their owner as he slept.

The angel sleeping on my couch woke with the alarm just as thousands of humans did each morning. With an eye cracked open and a hand on his forehead, he looked around him as if he forgot where he was. Forgot what had happened. How much trouble he was in.

"Nico, we need to talk before I have to work." I leaned over him before he could fake sleep. "So sit up. It's important about what happened last night after you fell asleep. Something is looking for you."

Nico sat up without moving his face away, our noses ending up close enough to cause my face to heat up. "What do you mean? Tell me everything that happened."

So I did. Everything. The dark alley, the fight, the way his sword kept meeting my dagger in the cold air. The way I somehow knew how to fight with a dagger, how I knew how to hold it when I blocked and how to hold it when I went on the offensive. How I knew exactly where to hit to bring that thing down.

The longer I spoke, the older Nico looked. His eyes hardened, his lips tightened up. Until my last word, he sat in silence with the look that he was finally getting some answers in that small apartment. He was finally figuring out how to get home, how to get away from my home.

How to get away from me.

"That explains it." Nico finally spoke, his face close enough to smell his breath. Peppermint, though I doubt he had brushed his teeth yet.

"What do you know?" I leaned back against the couch and within a second, Nico had followed suit. His right wing was almost to the skeleton rods, his left wing wasn't visible. "Do you know what that thing was?"

Nico's dark eyes were hypnotizing, were beautiful, were holy despite what they had seen. As they moved to stare into my own eyes, I felt goosebumps line my bruised arms. "A demon. Fallen angel. A dark one."

"Demon..." The hammer suddenly felt heavier. "A demon was looking for you."

Nico's face broke out into a grin despite the grim situation. "You're more focused on that then the fact that you killed a demon?"

His smile was cold, wasn't in true humor, but it made me smile. "Well if they are then that means I'm going to be killing a lot more."

"You're right about that," he admitted. "But that means you've also killed them before. You don't remember?"

"I wake up with this." I held my arms out to show the state they were in. "And I've always slept by that hammer. It was a comfort thing, I guess."

"That hammer is more than you think." Nico took the hammer in his hands. As he closed his eyes, the hammer glowed until it was the dagger the demon had pointed out hours before. Sharper than the wings of those supernaturals, as bright as the halo around Nico's ankle. The hilt was as dark as that demon.

"How'd you do that?" I asked, taking it back. As soon as it left those holy hands, it turned back into that hammer I had always known.

"It will change when you need it to," Nico instructed. "Just keep it close. Where did you get it?"

"From a garage sale." I could still smell the morning air, could feel the free quarters in my pocket. "I was trying to find new things for my apartment and it just really stuck out to me."

Nico took the hammer back and studied it. "Seems like someone wanted to get rid of the responsibility."

"So far I've been doing it in my sleep. How hard can it be?" I took the hammer back. "I need to get like a waist thing to hold this with."

"It's only going to get harder," Nico stated, shattering the good mood that had filled the room. "Now that you know you'll be seeing them during the day, and they'll see you. You'll have to kill them and hope nobody sees. But they should ride it off as something else if they do."

"You're serious?"

"I'm serious."

"It's not just from you? When you go back home it won't go away?" I pleaded. "Because I have two jobs, Nico. And those barely pay the bills. If I get fired I'll have to go back home. And I don't think I can."

"You act like I'll even be able to go back." Nico turned around so I could see his back. Where his left wing once was, now just a deep cut ran from his shoulder blade to the middle of his small back. Blood covered the couch where he sat, blood covered his pale skin. The smell hit my nose as reality hit my mind.

"I have to stitch you up." I stood up and ran to get my "first aid kit". Over the years, it had grown into a more serious version of a hospital's inventory. I laid it on the couch beside us as I got everything ready, even a couple shots to numb the area. "Just hold still. It shouldn't be too long. I have work in an hour."

Nico wiggled but didn't move. "Can I even bleed out?"

"I don't know but I don't want to risk it." I numbed and cleaned the cut before starting to stitch it, unmistakably thankful for the opportunity to practice despite the fact that it was Nico I was practicing on. If it was helping me and he wasn't dead, why shouldn't I be thankful?

In thirty minutes it was stitched up and bandaged. Blood covered my fingers and my shirt, but the scent smelled too familiar to hate. Nico sat with his back to me, sat with his hair in his face and his fists clenched at his sides.

"Are you okay?" I asked, packing the kit away. Silently, I tried to decide if I could still make it to work on time.

"I'm okay." he unclenched his fists but his body didn't lose the tenseness it held. "I just...am not used to this."

"Not used to what?"

"The temptation to sin."


	7. Chapter 6

I went to work. The angel stayed in my apartment, stayed where I hoped he would remain safe. Would a demon come when I wasn't there? Nico was rough but I couldn't see him as a fighter.

But as I would soon find out, ~he was born a fighter; gatekeeper of an endless war. Where justice is a dish best served warm, he is the weapon that hands on the sentence. Did he want to be a fighter, or did he just want to be free?~

Two demons came during the day at the cafe. Two breaks I had to take, two demons I had to kill. Their dust littered the alley ground like confetti after a party. The hammer remained heavy in my pocket under the flicking lights of the building.

A shift longer than a school day, harder and exhausting. More money made, working toward rent. The lights will shut off tomorrow.

Home. Such a weird thing to have. Before a few weeks ago, what was meant to be my home was nothing more than a cold building. Pain leaked out of it and stained the land. In its kitchen lied a memory that could never be forgotten.

Home was different now. It was a small apartment a couple blocks from the cafe. Cream colored walls, one bedroom, one bathroom. The floor was cracked in the kitchen, the living room only had a couch. And now a certain angel was occupying it.

I walked in to the scent of blood. It stained the couch, stained the kitchen floor, stained the blankets wrapped around him. Wrapped around his shoulders, covering if his right wing had also gone. He sat with blank eyes fixated ahead, hands folded in prayer. Prayer to who? Who would get him out of this mess if they weren't the ones who put him here?

He claimed everything happened for a reason. He stated it as soon as I walked through those doors. Claimed he was in my home for a reason. Claimed that we were always meant to meet. Yet he still prayed to be taken away from here.

"What have you done all day?" A simple question, an honest one. Thinking of him praying alone all day sent cold hatred down my spine, but not at the angel in front of me. It was directed to whoever had sent him here, whoever dropped him in an alley and left him for dead.

He shrugged his small shoulders without another word on the topic. "I'm hungry."

"Then eat." I dropped my bag by the closed door and walked to the kitchen. "There's cereal and Raman. What one do you want?"

"I don't know what the second is," Nico admitted. "Just whatever is fine, I guess. How was work?"

Sore muscles, tired eyes. Hands as raw as sunburn and every bit as painful. "Fine. Two more of those things came today."

"You killed them okay?" Nico asked. "Are you hurt?"

I started two pans of water for the Raman. It was the cheapest food I was aware of, and if Nico was also going to be eating then I needed to keep it that way. "I'm okay. Some small cuts. I put band-aids on."

Nico stood up and followed my voice into the kitchen, the blanket now acting as a cape. Bloody, ruined. "Any ideas of how I can get back home?"

"How would I?" I asked. "You know more about this stuff than me. All I know is myths and legends."

Nico sat on the cupboard as he did the night before. Already, we had memories together. Memories that would haunt me until my dying day, until I'll lay in that pool of blood and look up at the stars above. "Just help me think it through?"

"Fine." I opened the packages and poured them into their respected pans. "Start talking."

Nico took the wrapper and looked at it, his eyes scanning over the words. "I'm usually a guardian angel. That's the lowest there is, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Despite the severity of the situation, despite the fact that he wasn't human, despite the fact that he was covered in blood and dirt, I never stopped finding him attractive. I never stopped seeing myself with him, never stopped myself from picturing us kissing. But all that was behind my eyes, behind my fake smile. He never knew.

"The last thing I remember is getting done with my last mission." Nico continued. "The teenager I was watching ended up dying of cancer. I should have gone back home until I got a new mission, but I don't remember going back home. I don't remember anything besides him dying."

"Maybe you messed up and this is your punishment." I offered. "Do angels get punishments?"

Nico rolled his dark eyes. Butterflies erupted in my stomach and my heart rate sped up, but I didn't let it show. "No, we don't get punishments. And I didn't do anything wrong. There was no saving him."

"Why not?" I accused. "If you have all this power at hand, why didn't you save him?"

A small breath of air, a sudden look of grief on that angel's face. "Some people just aren't meant to live, Will. They're born to die."

"Give me one good reason."

Nico flicked my forehead. "If he would have lived, he would have ended up raping and killing a woman. Would have ended up getting her pregnant. Would have ended up getting away with it. Yes, I know, all lives matter, but he wouldn't have done anything else good for this world."

"So you served him justice early?" I asked. "Because you're supposed to do what's good, you know. It's who your master is."

"Let's not bring Him into this." Nico crossed his arms. "And I do do what's good. I do what I'm supposed to."

"You carry out orders."

"Not always," Nico muttered. "I do what I want to do, also."

I rolled my eyes. How could I believe him? If angels always did what they wanted to, they'd fall into the same temptation that us humans do. But then again, Satan was once an angel as well. "I don't believe you."

"Do you want me to show you? Because I can do what's been tempting me." Nico offered. "I told you earlier. I've been tempted since I met you."

I raised my eyebrow. "So I'm the one causing this temptation?"

He nodded. "Who else?"

"Fine, fine." I set the fork I had been using to stir the noodles down. "Do what's been tempting you. I'm interested to see what it is."

Thin fingers, paler than snow. The cracked nails disappeared as the fingers dug into my collar, pulling me closer to their owner. Face to face, peppermint breath. I could see myself in his eyes as he kissed me.

~My boy is a soldier. And his mouth tastes like fear and blood, dust and fire.

Home.

And battlefield.

My boy is a supernova,

Amorphous, ethereal, incandescent.

I'm scared he'll blind me

Or burn me.

I know he will.

But I can't turn away.~


	8. Chapter 7

~The sun inside him rages like wildfire and he is

Gold

Gold

Gold

And he is scorching the skin of my heart,

Yet still he pretends that he is safe for me to love,

That his hands are gentle,

That his fingerprints won't be seared into the notches of my spine.

The sun inside of him

Could set the world ablaze;

He knows this, he does.

And he still asks me to love him,

To face the flame.

Find me in the ashes.~

We woke up the next morning to the same alarm. Bare bodies, circular bruises. Lips swollen and chapped. Black hair ran over my bare chest, a cold cheek rested against my heartbeat.

Every thump rose the head, every exhale brought it back down.

A head I had learned to love, a head that belonged to no other than Nico himself. The head of an angel, hair as black as a demon. Hair that looked strangely like a halo as it spread out around his sleeping head.

Inhale, exhale. He still didn't wake.

I knew I could love him. I knew I could spend the rest of my life with him. But he was an angel, he wasn't human, he didn't belong on this earth. One day, he'd be taken back to his duties. He's once again be drafted into a never-ending war.

It hurt to think, it hurt to know. What else could I do? I folded my hands and closed my eyes, but I wasn't sure how to pray. About this, at least.

Before Nico, my prayers were full of dull things. Thank you for the apartment, protect me through the night. Now, it was full of begging and pleading for something that could never be.

~Please, God, let him be soft.

I know you made him with gunmetal bones and wolf's teeth.

I know you made him to be

A warrior

A soldier

A hero.

But even gunmetal can warp

And even wolf's teeth can dull

And I do not want to see him break

the way old and worn and overused things do.

I do not want to see him go up in flames

the way all heroes end up martyrs.

I know that you will tell me

that the world needs him.

The world needs his heart

And his faith

And his courage

And his strength

And his bones and his teeth and his blood and his voice and his-

The world needs everything he will give them.

Damn the world,

And damn you too.

Damn anyone that ever asked anything of him,

Damn anyone that ever took anything from him,

Damn anyone that ever prayed to his name.

You know that he will give them everything

Until there is nothing left of him

But the imprint of dust

Where his feet once trod.

You know that he will bear the world like Atlas

Until his shoulders collapse

and his knees buckle

and he is crushed by all he used to carry.

Dear God,

You have already made an Atlas.

You have already made an Achilles and an Icarus and a Hercules.

You have already made a sacrificial lamb of your Son.

You have already made so many heroes,

and you can make another again.

You can have your pack of heroes.

But please, I beg you-

He is all that I have,

And you have so many heroes

And the world has so many more.

Let him be soft,

and let him be mine.~

"Will..." Nico's soft voice escape his chapped lips. "Turn that thing off..."

My hand moved to the old alarm, stretched to not move Nico's small head. A press of a button, once again silence in the room. His breathing sounded magical.

"I've got to go to work." I could already smell the cafe, could feel the shoes squeezing my feet. "Bills, Nico. Rent."

"But I'm so comfortable." Nico's hair tickled my chest as he turned to face me, his eyes as dark as ever. Eyes that bore right into mine. "Please don't go."

I could feel the stitches in his back, could feel where each wing had once been. Nothing left but shoulderblades and blood. "Nico...We'll have nowhere to live. We need a base so we can figure out what happened to you."

"It'll be okay," Nico promised. "It'll be okay. Call in sick, take a day off."

"I live on tips, Nico." I ran a hand through his hair, felt the prickly strands that erupted from his cowlick. "I have to go in. I'll be back as soon as I can, I promise. How about you take a shower and change your clothes? You can go to the library and look up some stuff to see if there are any myths about this happening before."

Nico's rough skin rubbed against me as he sat up, only the blanket across his lap stopping his bare body from meeting the cold morning air. "Fine... I've seen enough people use showers. I think I can. But I need a weapon if one of those things come after me."

"What works against them?" I wondered. "That dagger was obviously made to fight them. Do regular weapons work?"

Nico brought his knees to his chest, his pale fingers wrapping around the ankle circulate. "It'll be harder to beat them... But if you have a knife in your kitchen I can bring that."

"Here, take mine." I handed him the hammer. "I can take the kitchen one."

Nico shook his head as soon as the hammer touched his hands. "No. This is yours."

"So?"

"So, it works the best with you." Nico set the hammer on the bed. "You've been growing in skill with it. You'll lose that skill if you try fighting with something else. I'm going to take the kitchen knife or I'm not going to go at all. That's my final deal."

"You're stubborn." I sat up, felt my muscles protest the movement. "Fine, take a knife. But you have to shower first. You're covered in blood."

"I will when you get ready." Nico ran a hand through his dark hair. The hand that had been in my hair the night before. "Do I borrow your clothes?"

"Yeah, I'll get yours washed." I got up and slipped on the one pair of clothes I had for work. "There should be a towel in there so you can dry off. If not then tell me."

"Okay." Nico got up and stretched, the muscles visible in his arms and back. Muscles to match the soldiers who spent their time in camps and war zones. Muscles that kept my attention until he was out of the room.

Yes, he fell from Heaven. He hurt and he bled. He starved on the streets.

But if he never had fallen, he never would have met me.


	9. Chapter 8

If this can help others, if I can warn you of one thing: there are some things you should never ask an angel. There are some things you should never bring up.

~Do not ask about Lucifer, because your angel will become a soldier before your eyes.

Do not, do not, do not ask about God.

Do not ask about rebellious older brothers and absentee fathers, do not infer about a war you know nothing off.

You should ask about the sky, about stars and suns and galaxies light years away, about how the universe looks like a blooming garden.~

The stories he tells can be beautiful. He can explain the world as a beautiful wonderland, he can tell you stories that end in peaceful deaths and hearts full of love.

But he's a soldier. He's seen war zones, he's seen death by the thousands. He watched 9/11 from the edge of the tower, couldn't do anything but cry along with the others. He took the souls up, made their way easy.

He saw the 2015 Paris attacks. He saw the bombs go off just as he saw the bomb at that race in Boston. He saw the destruction they caused, he saw the limbs fly off the bodies.

He saw the stabbing at Ohio State, saw the massacres of children in schools across the country. He saw sin, he saw humanity at its worst. In those times, he lost battles of a war that would never be over.

I walked him to the library before going to work. Cold alleys and rainy streets, borrowed shoes on divine feet. His hand never stopped clasping mine.

He said he had guarded people before, he was mostly up to date with the world. It was for that reason that I left him alone from there, knowing I should trust him with a computer. One that wasn't mine, at least.

Nobody seemed to see him.

The cafe was always the same. Four walls, fifteen tables. Menus and napkins, plates and cups. In the back, I kept my hammer under my jacket.

I worked with two others who were also waiters. They came for the paycheck, talked to each other on breaks. I tried to ignore them, but sometimes I got pulled in. When I did, Sunshine came back out to mask who I really was.

Percy Jackson had worked there longer than me, but his eyes still held happiness and hope. It was a strange sight in such a building. Cold windows, hard floors. The smell of coffee as if it was the building's blood. Percy always chatted with the guests and made new friends. Half the guests had been his friends before they walked through the doors.

Piper McLean also worked with us but didn't come in nearly as much. When she did, she brought her homework to do during breaks. Percy sometimes helped her, leaving me to cover the cafe by myself. Still enough, I learned to enjoy their presence.

With them, I was a little less alone.

Some small talk ensued but I never told them about Nico. Who would? Even if they were close friends, I wasn't sure I'd be able to say it without sounding insane. An angel who called himself Nico, an angel who seemed to be dying. His wings were gone, his eyes were dark. Even his ankle bracelet didn't glow as much as it used to.

Nico... He never left my mind. I could picture him sitting at one of those tables, could see him watching me after each step. His dark eyes, his pointed nose. Chapped lips that were now bruised from the night we just had.

Picturing it sent shivers down my spine and butterflies erupting in my stomach.

No demons came. Whether that was good or bad, I could never be sure. But instead of facing a fallen angel, I had to deal with the questions from my colleagues.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Percy asked, having been leaning on the counter. It was a slow day, and at the moment, no customers were in sight. "You're acting differently."

"He's acting in love," Piper added as she walked passed.

I felt my face darken as I immediately pictured that dark-haired angel. "I'm fine."

Percy raised an eyebrow. "So she was right."

"Of course I'm right!" Piper called from a table she had started to clean. "I'm always right about these things. Remember you and Annabeth?"

Percy scratched the back of his neck. "To be fair multiple people called it years early."

I rolled my eyes at the discussion and attempted to sneak into the kitchen, but Percy caught my arm before I could. "So? Who's the secret girl?"

Piper coughed. "Guy."

"Guy." Percy corrected. "Who's the secret guy?"

I pulled my arm away from him as my face heated up. "No one you know."

Percy's face broke into a grin. "So there is a guy! Who is it? What's his name?"

"Again, you don't know him." I could still see the way his eyes looked as sleep dawned on him. Dark but beautiful. "His name's Nico."

"Nico..." Percy shrugged. "Never heard of him. Where's he from?"

"Away." I couldn't help but chuckle. "Far away."

"How far?"

"Too far."

"Where's he live now?"

"Close."

"How close?"

"Very."

"Where?"

"Up your ass and to the left." I started to straighten up the pile of menus. "Now leave me alone already."

"You walked right into that one," Piper commented, throwing her rag at Percy. "Now help get these tables clean and stop bothering Will."

Percy gave me one last look of curiosity before going to Piper. "Why can't you? I'm supposed to be on break."

"We've all been on break for an hour," she replied. "Get cleaning." She turned to me and winked before pointing out a table to Percy. "That one, Seaweed Brain."

My brain faded away from them then, my mind went back to Nico. And there it stayed until I went to pick him up.


	10. Chapter 9

As soon as I walked into the library, Nico was at my side. Pale hands clasped onto my arm, bloody nails dug into my skin.

Sure, angels are meant to be holy, but it's never said that they're innocent. Just like soldiers, they kill in the name of war. They carry out unspeakable acts and claim it for a good cause. They're warriors, they're soldiers. They're far from innocent.

Holy, holy, holy. The choirs sing it and it echoes through the church. Holy, holy, holy, is the war they fight. Holy, holy, holy is the way they kill.

Harsh

Outlandish

Loyalty for

Years

"Did you find out anything?" I asked, though his face said it all. "You've had a good seven hours."

Nico glanced around the room as if demons were lurking in the bookcases. "You're the only one that can see me."

"What do you mean?"

"No one can see me," Nico spoke again, this time with more passion. "I try to talk to people and they can't hear me. I walk in front of them and they can't see me. One person walked through me. He walked _through me_ , Will."

I looked around, saw the librarian giving me confused looks. "Let's get home so I'm not seen as insane."

"That's fine by me." Nico moved for the exit, dragging me by hand, pale wrapped around tan. As I followed, I watched each of his steps, noticed each of his movements.

It wasn't holy to love an angel, wasn't glorified. If anything, it was my own form of Hell. ~Our lives didn't fit together, but oh did our souls know how to dance.~

When we got home there wasn't much talking. Only bare skin and the taste of his lips. The halo around his ankle cut my shin.

The sun was about ready to set when I looked at the angel in my arms, ran my fingers through his thin hair. "Nico... Did you find anything else out? We...we need to get you back home eventually." Home... Why wasn't his home with me?

"I know..." Nico didn't seem as excited as he should be. "I need to go back, I know... But can't I spend a little more time with you here?"

I could feel his cheekbone dig into my chest, could see how skinny he had become over a 24-hour span. "Neeks... You'll die. Look at you."

Nico held up his wrist to glare at the bones. "Stupid."

"Huh?"

"It's stupid." Nico rolled onto his back, his head falling onto the pillow. "This whole situation is stupid."

"Yeah but that doesn't help us." I turned on my side to watch him. "Did you find anything out besides the fact that you're invisible?"

Nico took a minute before shaking his head. "No..."

I raised my eyebrow. "You're a bad liar."

"I've never lied before." Nico stared at the cracked ceiling. "Why is sinning so easy..."

"How am I supposed to know?" I held one of his hands, felt his cold skin beneath my own. "What did you find out, Nico? Why don't you want to share it with me?"

"Because I don't." Nico snapped. "Leave it alone."

"How am I supposed to help you if I don't know?" I questioned. "Because that's near damn impossible."

"Just don't worry about it." Nico covered his eyes with his forearm. "Everything will be fine. Just don't think about it."

"Don't think about how you're dying?"

"Don't think about my home." Nico corrected. "Just pretend I'm human like you are."

"But you're not." I reminded him. "You're an angel. You don't belong-"

"I know." Nico snapped. "You don't think I know that? I know I don't belong. I know I'm not human. I know you don't want to love me. But I love you. I love being human. I love being able to lay beside you." He uncovered his eyes to reveal tears, tears that looked like they came from any other human. "I don't want to go back home. I'd rather stay here with you."

Love. A silly emotion, an emotion most would rather not have. But it kept me sane that day, kept Nico beside me. For the week, at least. If it hadn't been for love, he would have already been gone.

Did I love him? I hadn't known him long, hadn't known him good. But the love I had stopped believing in suddenly came back in my head, suddenly wouldn't disappear from my thoughts. Nico... He was in my heart for good.

"You love me?"

Nico coughed through the tears. "That's all you got from that."

"It's pretty important, in my defense."

The cough turned into a chuckle. God, did angels have amazing laughs. "Well... I guess I do. I love you. Love comes easily to things like me."

To be loved... Damn, that felt amazing. "I love you, too."

Nico's eyes landed on mine. "You're being serious?"

"Why wouldn't I?" I flashed a smile, a smile that actually felt good. "I love you, Nico di Angelo."

Nico reached a hand out to touch my face, his thumb rubbing against my skin. "You know that's not my real last name."

"I figured. It means of the angels."

Nico cracked a smile. "Nico isn't my actual name, either. I never had one."

I raised an eyebrow. "Where'd you come up with Nico, then?"

"I saw it on a grave." That suited him just fine. "What's for dinner?"

I thought of the empty kitchen, thought of the tap water that probably wasn't clean, nor was the milk any close to being fresh. "Raman."

"Guess I'll have to get used to it," Nico commented.


	11. Epilogue

**Epilogue- Next book will be out soon: Falling Together In A World Falling Apart**

* * *

~We began as all good love stories should.

Forged in blood, fire, fluorescent lights, fuzzy socks

on waxed, slippery floors.

Shrieks of laughter

and joy.

His heart beats like a drum against mine in sync.

His skin against mine burns like a firework

We explode.

We belong together always

He says, his voice

One of hope.

We don't fall out of love

We implode in the midst of a war.

Meaningful coincidences

You know there is no such thing.

We were built on love and lies

We were a house of cards

Destiny, mistake.~

The week we had together was a glorious thing. Love under warm blankets, hot chocolate by a faulty heater. Too many kisses to count.

What was that saying? Use your time while you have it? Even though he hadn't said anything, I knew our time was coming to a close.

It was a Friday when he left. The snow blanketed the world outside, let me stay home from work in the empty apartment. Where he once laid was still warm.

No note, no words of goodbye. Just waking up to find him gone.

It creates an empty feeling, a hole in the heart that had once been so full of love. No words can describe the loneliness.

Snow kept falling. The sun moved through the sky. As I looked at the clouds, I could only hope he was looking back down at me.

~Because I love him,

I do,

And here's the miracle:

he loves me too.

I was allowed

to lick off the color from his lips

to listen to the hymns in his pulse

to bask in the sunlight of his voice.

I was allowed

to have him.

We love each other,

we do,

And here's the tragedy:

it's not enough.

I was allowed

to watch the sun swallow him whole and burn him up

to stain my fingers to the bone holding him together

to count the constellations in his eyes as they blink out

I am not allowed

To save him.~


	12. Books

Sequel: Falling Together In A World Falling Apart (complete)

Next Book: Lifted Up (complete)


End file.
